


sing the words we love

by deerie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Camping, Correspondence, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic, F/F, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Pack Bonding, Sick Stiles, Sickfic, Weddings, Werewolf Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerie/pseuds/deerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the bits and bobs and odds and ends that I've written that are probably never going to make it into a full-fledged fic, but I didn't want them to waste away in my WIP folder. Featuring Allison/Lydia mishaps, werewolf reunions, and sometime in the future - space pirates. The newest chapters feature an unlikely email correspondence, a wedding no one expected, and sick!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in love with you suddenly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh. This one is something I'm pretty sure I started writing for [cieleezy](http://cieleezy.tumblr.com). It kind of got pushed to the side when I was working on TWBB, but I finished it up! And here it is! I hope you enjoy!

i.

Lydia slams her thumb down on the ‘end call’ button and lets out an irritated huff. She twirls around to face Allison and schools her face into an expression that doesn’t betray how angry she is. “Let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Allison repeats, eyebrows raised. 

Lydia flashes a tight grin and agrees. “Yes.”

“Lydia, are you sure?” Allison crosses her arms over her chest. “I heard you on the phone with Jackson. You rage-quit on that call. If you just want to, like, vent or destroy something, we can do that too.”

Lydia cocks her head and blinks once, deliberately. “As charming as that idea is, retail therapy sounds _way_ more fulfilling. I could do with a new pair of shoes.”

Allison glances toward Lydia’s closet, where her myriad of shoes are stacked on shelves at the bottom. She looks up at Lydia who looks back at her expectantly. 

“Okay,” Allison says, sweeping her arms out in front of her. “Lead the way.”

“Wise choice,” Lydia says, reaching out to loop their arms. 

Allison smiles brightly.

 

ii. 

“Do you want to watch The Notebook?”

“Lydia, I’m not actually Jackson,” Allison says, distracted.

“Hm,” Lydia hums under her breath, aware Allison’s not giving Lydia her undivided attention. “Thank God.”

They’re in Allison’s garage. Lydia looks around, unimpressed, as Allison checks her new string for any irregularities before she restrings her compound bow. The bow itself is trussed up in some sort of machine - if Lydia’s being honest with herself, she may have tuned Allison out when she explained it. Whatever, Allison can be in charge of the weapons and Lydia can be in charge of the well-executed plans. 

“What’s on at the theater?” Allison asks after a few minutes, when she’s finally finished. 

“What’s that movie Stiles keeps talking about?” Lydia asks.

“Um, _Superman_ , I think?”

“We should go see it and then tell him that it’s terrible.” 

A surprised giggle is Allison’s response. “You’re awful.”

“I know,” Lydia grins. “Isn’t it fun?”

 

iii.

“So,” Lydia says. She looks up at Allison from under her eyelashes. “I saw a flyer today for the museum in Beacon City.”

Allison hums absentmindedly under her breath. She writes something down on her math homework - Lydia reminds herself to tell Allison it’s wrong later. After a moment, Allison looks up and says, “You want to go this weekend?”

“Barring a supernatural crisis, yes.”

“They do need us to bail them out all the time, don’t they?” Allison says thoughtfully. 

The flyer had actually said that the museum was doing a free weekend, which meant there would probably be too many wild children running around but it was the last weekend for the exhibit Lydia wanted to see. 

“Anyway,” Allison asks, “what exhibit are you interested in?”

“Russian folklore,” Lydia replies. She watches as Allison just barely manages to keep herself from cringing. A bright smile crawls its way across Lydia’s face. “They also have an exhibit on medieval weaponry,” she hedges. 

“Only if we can go out to eat afterward,” Allison negotiates, cheeks dimpling.

“Deal,” Lydia says, and looks forward to the weekend.

 

iv. 

Erica sits across from the love seat Allison and Lydia are perched on and says, “Boyd and I need a couple to double date with. We were going to ask Stiles and Derek, but then I thought that was a little bit weird.”

From down the hallway, Stiles yells, “Hey, we are a _delight_ to be around, Reyes!”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Anyway, we thought we’d ask you guys.”

Lydia turns her head and narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re the only other couple in the pack, duh.”

Allison sinks back into the couch and says, “What.”

Scott turns around from where he’s trying to pick a DVD to stare at the pair of them. He’s got his confused puppy face on. He earnestly says, “You two realize you’ve been dating for, like, weeks now, right?”

 _Oh_ , Allison thinks. _Oh, no, I didn’t realize that._

Lydia looks similarly shocked, mouth rounded into an ‘o.’ Her right hand is clenching around the book in her lap. Allison doesn’t think she’s ever seen Lydia look truly surprised and speechless.

She hopes this doesn’t mean that what they’ve been doing - hanging out, dating, _whatever it is_ \- is over. 

Allison realizes with a start that she wants to kiss Lydia. 

 

v. 

Lydia and Allison lay on the bed, shoulders and fingers brushing. Lydia can feel the shock settling into her bones, and she’s - usually she has a lock on this type of thing. She doesn’t know how she missed something as big as this. When she glances over at Allison, Lydia can tell she feels the same. 

“Have we really been dating this entire time?” she asks quietly. She holds her breath while she waits for Allison to answer and doesn’t want to admit that there’s so much riding on Allison’s answer to the question Lydia is really asking.

Allison tangles their fingers together more firmly and says, “I think so.”

Lydia lets out the air she’s been holding in one little puff and closes her eyes. She nods firmly once and then says, “Okay.”

Allison looks over at her then, rolls over so their hands are clasped lightly in between their bodies. There’s a scant amount of space between them. She says, “I want this.”

Lydia reaches her free hand out to palm Allison’s waist and she says, “Good.”

Allison beams at her, cheeks dimpled and Lydia quirks a grin of her own. Allison’s hand slides up the side of Lydia’s neck and pulls her in. 

Lydia’s never felt sparks before - she’s never really believed in them before either, never had a reason to entertain the thought of kissing someone and feeling sparks run up and down her spine - but when she presses her mouth to Allison’s, Lydia lights up. 

She feels a warmth down in her belly and she smiles brightly when they pull apart, her laugh catching in Allison’s mouth, and they share the lilting sound between their bodies.


	2. the greater northwest forestry conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles isn’t even trying to hide the mocking smile on his face. “Do you all get matching t-shirts? Tell me, Derek, do you do _trust falls_?” 
> 
> Derek ignores him. “It’s a way to foster goodwill between packs. Since we’re established now, we’re expected to be there this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bad day, so you get another story that's been floating around my WIP folder for a while. :)

“So,” Stiles begins and Derek already knows he doesn’t want to hear the rest. “This ‘ _Greater Northwest Forestry Conference_ ’ - what you’re telling me is that it’s really a secret werewolf convention?”

Derek tries so hard not to roll his eyes. Stiles gives him the stink-eye in response.

“It’s more like a,” Derek stalls, trying to think of a word that isn’t completely mortifying to use to describe GNFC. “It’s more like a family reunion.”

After he says it, Derek regrets doing so immensely. He regrets everything about this conversation. He regrets the person he was five years ago, the person who decided it was a good idea to bring smartasses into the pack. He makes the _worst_ decisions.

Stiles isn’t even trying to hide the mocking smile on his face. “Do you all get matching t-shirts? Tell me, Derek, do you do _trust falls_?”

Derek ignores him. “It’s a way to foster goodwill between packs. Since we’re established now, we’re expected to be there this year.”

Stiles nods like he gets it. Derek thinks he’s safe but then Stiles asks, “What’s the catch?”

Why can’t Stiles just let things go? Life would be about a billion times easier if Stiles just accepted what Derek said and moved on. _So much easier_.

Derek crosses his arms. He’s quiet for so long that Stiles reaches out and pokes him on the shoulder. Derek does not smack his hand away, but only just. He is a respectable alpha, thank-you-very-much.

“It’s my turn to lead the Wolf Scouts.”

Stiles chokes on air - “Excuseme _what_?”

Again, Derek regrets everything.

*

"Derek, _Derek_ ," Stiles hisses, like every werewolf in the vicinity can't hear what he's saying.

Absently, Derek murmurs, "What."

"Isn't this a _werewolf_ convention? Why are all these people deferring to me?"

"Because you're my second," Derek says, still not paying attention. He's trying to count out the correct number of shirts for the pack. He keeps losing track of how many he needs. "Did you not read the paperwork I had you fill out?"

"No?"

Derek looks up and stares at him across the table. "You just filled out a form without reading it? Are you serious?"

"Well, I mean, you gave it to me. I trust you not to screw me over."

An odd warmth fills Derek's chest. "Oh."

He shoves a stack of shirts into Stiles' arms. "Count these again for me."

Stiles cackles and shrieks, "I thought you said we weren't getting matching t-shirts! You great big liar!"

Derek sighs and shares a look with the harried-looking werewolf presiding over the t-shirt table. He knows, he knows, _the worst_.

 *

“Wait,” Isaac says, trepidation clear in his voice. “What do you mean by _canoeing_?”

*

Ten little faces peer up at Derek and Stiles. One distinctly sports fangs. Derek huffs and says, “Put those away, Johnny.”

Johnny fidgets with his Wolf Scouts sash, but the fangs recede. Then he opens his mouth and says, “Why is he here? He’s not even a werewolf!”

Derek is about to answer when Stiles asks, “Yeah, Derek, why am I even here?”

Derek stares at a tree and scowls. “I don’t trust you being on the canoe. You flail too much.”

He expects Stiles to be irritated, but Stiles just nods sagely and says, “Legit.”

Derek looks down at Johnny and says, “Humans are an important part of werewolf packs. They help keep us balanced.”

Then he points toward the woods and begins to march his ten little Wolf Scouts in the direction of their camp.

Stiles stays at the rear, but yells joyfully at him, “Can I get that in triplicate? And notarized?”

One of the kids from the Henderson pack, Ellie, asks, “What does _notarized_ mean?”

It’s going to be a long night in the woods.

*

Derek’s not sure what he expected when he brought Stiles along, but it definitely wasn’t this. Stiles is ridiculously good with the Wolf Scouts - _ridiculously_ good.

Everyone has earned their tracking badge by playing a spirited game of chase-the-human and Stiles has been pretty chill about the whole thing, even when Alex - from the Godwin pack, who are a little more wild than the rest of the packs - tries to nibble on Stiles’ arm when he catches him.

They’ve all built campfires and identified which plants are poisonous to humans and which are poisonous to both humans and werewolves. When Ellie asks whether they’d ever seen anyone poisoned with wolfsbane, Stiles helpfully and dramatically reenacts the time Derek collapsed in front of his car. He makes it a little more palatable for the kids - no hunters, just Derek being dumb in the forest so, “ _That’s_ why you should pay attention in the forest. You don’t want to be like Derek here and stumble into some wolfsbane.”

Derek rolls his eyes when Stiles shoots him a shit-eating grin.

They eat s’mores before tucking the kids into bed. Stiles and Derek sit around the campfire until the last Wolf Scout falls asleep.

“How’d you get to be so good with kids?” Derek asks, nudging his elbow into Stiles’ side.

Stiles almost drops the s’more he just made and glares at Derek. He thinks briefly about the question and then says, “Well, if you look at it this way, these kids aren’t much different from all the wolves you turned and Scott in the beginning.”

He smiles brightly and Derek shoves him off the log they sit on.

*

Derek rolls his eyes heavenward. “What.”

It’s not even a question, because seriously? _Seriously_ , how is this his life?

Scott doesn’t say anything at all. He just stands there, fidgeting. Boyd is staring over Derek’s shoulder into the distance with a look on his face that says he’s one-hundred percent done with everything. Lydia’s eyes are wide in that way that says she’s livid. Allison is the only person who isn’t soaking wet and Derek doesn’t even want to know how she managed to do that. Cora’s got her head in her hands, and Isaac - well, Isaac looks like he expected nothing less.

“You would not believe how surprised I felt when I got back from wrangling child werewolves in the woods and found out that my pack was the only pack who could not manage to row a boat down a river with no mishaps.” Derek crosses his arms. “I have literally watched you guys work together to achieve a common goal and you can’t even use a canoe.”

“Now,” Stiles pipes up, shit eating grin firmly in place. “Don’t jump to too many conclusions. I’m sure they have a very reasonable explanation!”

The pack is silent for one long awkward moment until Isaac can’t seem to hold it in any longer. “It’s not life or death! It’s just _canoeing_!”

There are people milling about from other packs and they all stop short at Isaac’s proclamation. Unfortunately, Derek can’t even find it in himself to be mortified at his pack, because Isaac’s point is kind of legitimate - at least, it is for his pack.

Stiles looks like he’s going to pull something with how hard he’s laughing. Stiles might actually be the worst.

*

At the end of the conference every year, there’s a ceremony for all the packs to honor those they’ve lost and celebrate new beginnings.

Derek remembers the ceremonies well. Laura always tried to embarrass him. One year she actually succeeded in tripping him as he was walking across the stage to get his Howler Badge. _So. Embarrassing._

Derek would do anything to have her back.

For some reason, Stiles gets up behind the microphone to hand out the badges to the Wolf Scouts. Derek wonders who authorized this. This is going to end badly for everyone.

Stiles adjusts the microphone up to his height and thankfully manages not to make it screech. He grins out to the crowd and waves. “Hi, guys!”

Derek can hear people whispering in the crowd.

“I know traditionally the alpha who took the scouts out would be up here giving out the badges, but trust me - you do not want Derek up here. I’m not one-hundred percent sure he knows more than five words and three of those are ‘shut up, Stiles.’” He points to himself. “That’s me. Ha.”

This gains a smattering of laughs from everyone.

“Now, luckily, Derek didn’t trust me to go canoeing with our pack - and thank God for that, right? - so I got to go romp around in the forest with the Wolf Scouts! I got chased by little werewolves, nibbled on a little, but we all learned a lot of awesome stuff and had a bunch of fun. Didn’t we?”

He turns to the Wolf Scouts standing in two lines next to him. The kids bob their heads up and down, big smiles on their faces.

“So super stoked to announce that _all_ of our Wolf Scouts earned three badges: the tracking badge, the safety badge, and their camping badge! Let’s give them a round of applause!”

People clap, people howl - everyone cheers for the young wolves. Ellie probably beams the brightest.

Derek feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“But that’s not all! After we got back here, the scouts came to me with a plan - and we all know there’s nothing more that I like than a good plan. So I’m going to give the microphone to Ellie Henderson, because she’s got something to say.”

Ellie breaks from the line and comes up next to Stiles. The microphone doesn’t go down to her height, so he takes it off the stand and crouches next to her.

She taps her finger against the mic and grins at the muffled noise it makes. She waves to a woman in the crowd who Derek figures is probably her mother and alpha. The woman grins and waves back.

Ellie points to her fellow Wolf Scouts and says, “We want to present a special badge that Stiles helped us make!”

She holds up the badge and it’s - sparkly is an understatement. It’s red and sparkly and has a big number one on it.

“This badge goes to Derek for being the best scout leader ever!”

Stiles locks eyes with Derek and mouths, ‘Get up here.’

Derek makes his way up to the stage to accept the badge the troop worked so hard on to make. He doesn’t even have to say anything before the entire group of kids - and Stiles - piles on to hug him.

Derek laughs.

Stiles pops out of the pile to yell, “You know who’s not getting a badge? Our pack! For canoeing!”

Derek can hear his pack groaning from the back of the crowd.

It’s been a pretty great werewolf reunion.


	3. an email correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, [grandpajojens](http://grandpajojens.tumblr.com/) asked me to write Stiles and Jackson, so I wrote [this](http://deerie.tumblr.com/post/55471297379). I've cleaned it up a bit to post it here. :)

The email sits in his inbox and he stares at it in muted horror - _what?_ Why would Jackson be emailing him? Nothing about the email makes sense, but Stiles clicks on it anyway.

It says, succinctly: _How is Lydia?_

Stiles doesn't know why Jackson emails him to ask about Lydia. Jackson has Danny; hell, he's got the girl herself. Jackson has people who actually give a shit about him and here he is, emailing the guy he put a restraining order on. It's weird, okay?

Jackson's been in London for months now without initiating any contact and now he's emailing Stiles. 

Jackson doesn't offer an apology - Stiles wouldn't know what to do with an apology if Jackson sent one anyway - but Stiles isn't so much of a jackass that he doesn't respond. He sends back, _Better, she's doing better._

Stiles figures that's the end of it.

It's not.

Jackson sends him emails in the middle of the day and Stiles knows enough about the time difference that he wonders idly if maybe Jackson has to wait until the sky is dark to admit the things he sends, even if there's no face-to-face interaction, even though, even though.

It's not that Stiles didn't realize Jackson was human too. Jackson just never gave him any indication that there were actual feelings knocking around in his stone heart. That makes it funny, in a not-so-funny way, that it all it takes is Jackson becoming something not-human for Stiles to see him as human.

 

> FROM: Jackson  
>  I still think it's my fault.
> 
> FROM: Jackson  
>  I've been talking to the alpha here in London. Derek put me in touch with her when I came out here. I'm thinking about joining her pack.
> 
> FROM: Jackson  
>  If I had been better, none of this would have happened.

 

Sometimes, Stiles wonders if there's any other way he can say _It wasn't your fault_ without it running together into an endless litany of _itwasn'tyourfaultitwasn'tyourfaulyitwasn'tyourfaultitwasn'tyourfault_. He wonders if it's like when you say a word too many times and suddenly it doesn't seem like a word anymore.

He hopes that something - anything - he types back to Jackson will sink in, that Jackson will be able to peel away the parts of him that still feel _wrong_ , that Jackson might stop blaming himself.

Stiles doesn't know what the future holds for him. He doesn't know if he's going to make it out of Beacon Hills alive, but he hopes he gets to something change in Jackson.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A while ago, I got this anonymous prompt: _teen wolf AU prompt: During that Summer, working together, Stiles and Derek had become closer than ever. They trusted each other with everything- except neither told the other that they loved them. And then Cora comes back and Derek is so preoccupied with finally having family, and Stiles tries moving on thinking Derek never loved him and suddenly- stiles and Cora. and it's their wedding night and derek is so confused because he wants his little sister happy but he wants Stiles..._

The thing is - the thing is, Cora looks beautiful. Her wedding gown fits her perfectly: strapless, with a long skirt that brushes the ground just so. Derek never thought that he’d get to see her get married and yet here she is. Her hair is up, brushed back and pinned with pearls and the thinnest white ribbon. There’s the barest trace of eyeliner around her eyes, but he knows the blush she sports is her happiness radiating across her face. A faint smile lingers on her face and he mirrors it the best he can. 

She circles one of his wrists with hers and asks, “Why do you look so sad, Derek?”

Derek shakes his head and says, “I just didn’t think -” he cuts himself off and looks at the floor, over her shoulder, anywhere but her. He feels like the shittiest brother in the world - jealous of his baby sister on her wedding night. He’d thought he had time. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you like this,” he settles with, because it’s also true.

"Oh, Derek," she says, and he can tell she’s sad about it too. "I miss them too."

He can hear Lydia making her way down the hall, and Cora hears her too, because she says, “I guess she found something blue. Why don’t you go see Stiles and make sure he’s tied his tie the right way. You know Scott’s hopeless at that kind of thing.”

Derek nods right as Lydia raps on the door and leaves to find Stiles, even though he knows it’s absolutely the last thing he should do. 

Scott’s leaving the room Stiles is holed up in and he smiles kindly when Derek approaches. “He wants a bottle of water and his dad,” Scott laughs. “You better go calm him down, dude.”

Stiles stands in front of the mirror, fiddling with his tie, and when he catches Derek’s eye in the mirror, he says, “Thank God, Derek, I can’t make this tie work. Why are ties even a thing? Who decided ties were a good idea, because I need to find them and punch them in the throat.”

Derek shakes his head and gestures for Stiles to come to the middle of the room. He looks good too, the sharp lines of the dove gray suit doing wonderful things for him. Derek’s breath catches in his throat for one long second and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able to say anything. 

"You're nervous," Derek finally manages.

"Yeah, uh, duh, Derek," Stiles says, and Derek has to bat his hands away from the tie so he can twist and loop it into something fitting. "Cora’s entirely out of my league and somehow has seen fit to marry me - of course I’m nervous."

Derek tugs the knot into place and presses his hand over it. Stiles catches his eye and says, “She comes from a great family, you know.”

What Derek hears is,  _Please don’t have any hard feelings._ It feels like he’s losing something.

Derek smiles, even though it aches, and cups a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck. There’s a million different things he wants to say, like  _I loved you first_  and  _it could have been us today_ , but instead he sucks it all up and says, “You’re going to do great. She looks beautiful.”


	5. sick!fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote [this](http://deerie.tumblr.com/post/45481754351) about nine months ago and found it again, so I decided to clean it up and post it here. It's just a slice of sick!fic. It can be seen as Derek/Stiles, but it's also pretty gen too. :)

When Derek comes out of the bathroom, towel slung around his waist and hair damp, there are four members of his pack sitting on the floor, huddled around Derek's thrift store coffee table, eating soup out of take away containers because Stiles - pitiful human that he is - is sick. 

_The death plague,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Stiles says in his head. The kid's over dramatic at best. 

Derek takes one look at them and mutters, "Don't spill _anything_."

Isaac barks out a laugh before he stifles it, a little bit of shame in his eyes like maybe he shouldn't be laughing, but Stiles says, thickly, "Don' worry, Hale. I am the _epitome_ of grace. Your deposit is totally safe."

Derek doesn't feel convinced, but he does feel a little bit vindicated when Stiles puts down his soup on the coffee table and hacks out a terrible cough into the crook of his arm. 

Scott winces and his bowl joins Stiles' as he leans over to loop an arm around Stiles' shoulders. Stiles manages a weak nod in appreciation even as he continues to cough up what sounds like his lungs. 

Vindicated is too harsh of a word, Derek thinks. Derek feels bad for him. Stiles just has a regular - human - cold, though, and there's not much Derek can do for him.

Derek goes to his bedroom to get dressed. When he comes out, he pads quietly to the kitchen to find the take out Boyd brought for him and then tucks himself into the space between Stiles and Isaac. 

Isaac scoots closer, because there will never be any time when he doesn't try to take advantage of a kind touch and knocks his knee against Derek's. Derek levels him a fond look in turn. 

Scott and Stiles finally disentangle and Stiles reaches for his soup. Derek graciously ignores the wetness in the corners of Stiles' eyes. He starts in on his dinner - something with a rich broth and chunks of beef and vegetables - as Stiles slurps down the last of his and scrubs the back of his hand across his mouth.

Everyone stays quiet as they eat their soup. Scott and Boyd finish theirs and Isaac is close behind. No one moves from the loose circle. It's nice.

Stiles lists to the right and sags against Derek's side. Every inhale he takes ends in a wheeze. Derek doesn't stop eating, but he does jostle them into a more comfortable position: Stiles leaning against his shoulder. Stiles hums something under his breath, but Derek doesn't bother to try and make it out. 

Later, Derek will gather Stiles up and shuffle him into his bedroom. Derek will bundle him under the covers and run his hand through Stiles' sweaty hair. He'll press his thumb to Stiles' temple and leech some of the pain away. He'll press his hand against the flat expanse of Stiles' chest and pull the pain away from there too. 

Stiles will mumble under his breath but already be fast asleep. 

Derek will find a spot on the bed and keep watch.


	6. three marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this [prompt](http://deerie.tumblr.com/post/38511280142): _also write fic about characters leaving marks on each other. like hickies or other bruises or like someone writing on someone else, just like testing a pen or jotting a note or maybe henna or maybe like paint or ink, maybe like an alpha leaving a symbol on his boyfran so other werewolves can't/won't/don't touch him??? is that a thing??? or ok just something about someone marking another's skin for some reason_.
> 
> I rewrote tiny parts of this to clean it up, but it's so short anyway. Hope you enjoy!

i.

Scott snags Stiles' left hand and scribbles something on him in pen before Stiles can even think to stop him. The rough edge of the nib drags on his skin. He tries to jerk away, because it stings, but Scott grips his hand tighter. He traces the curve of a letter a couple times to make sure the ink stands out. 

Stiles tugs back his hand when Scott finishes and twists his hand to read the upside-down scrawl - _dinner @ scott's, 5pm_ He shoots Scott a questioning look and Scott shrugs and says, "Otherwise you'll forget."

"Did you have to write it upside-down, man? I'm going to get a strain trying to read this."

Scott just laughs and says, "You have to work to read it. That means you'll actually remember."

That makes a lot of sense, honestly. Stiles would probably just look right over the ink if it were easy to read, but the little blip - the time it takes to read the note - will give him just enough pause to remember what it says. It's not his fault his mind works a million times faster than it should. 

Scott knows him well. They're best friends for a reason.

Stiles flashes him a grin and says, "Good one, buddy."

Scott's answering smile is blinding.

 

ii.

Derek has werewolf healing, but he doesn't stop Stiles from mouthing at the skin stretched across his hip.

Stiles scrapes his teeth across the jut of Derek's hip bones, sucks the blood to just below the skin, but by the time he pulls back to admire his handiwork, Derek's skin is already healed and the blemish completely gone.

Stiles keeps making these unhappy sounds in the back of his throat, but he keeps diving back down like he expects the outcome to be different if he tries hard enough.

Eventually, Derek cups the back of Stiles' head and guides him back up his body. Stiles dips down to press a kiss against his mouth and Derek surges up to meet him. 

Derek slips his hands under the shirt Stiles still hasn't managed to take off and runs them up his spine, pushing the shirt up as he goes. Stiles only stops kissing him long enough to shuck the shirt and throw it over the side of the bed. Derek uses his momentary distraction to hook his leg around Stiles and flip them over. 

Stiles grins brightly before his mouth falls open as Derek sets his teeth - blunt, human - to the skin covering Stiles' ribs. 

He leaves his own mark there.

 

iii. 

Derek isn't an alpha - there is no Hale pack anymore. Stiles gets the triskelion tattooed on the soft skin inside his left wrist anyway. It matches the one between Derek's shoulder blades. 

Derek's eyes go dark when he sees it for the first time.

Stiles thinks this is enough.


End file.
